


You Wear Your Soul On Your Sleeve

by Im_Not_Insane_I_Swear



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Destiel - Freeform, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Soul tattoos, Tattoos, ace!cas, major character death isn't permanent don't worry, violence will be tagged in specific chapters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-05
Updated: 2018-06-14
Packaged: 2019-05-18 09:39:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14850326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Im_Not_Insane_I_Swear/pseuds/Im_Not_Insane_I_Swear
Summary: This is kind of an alternate season thirteen told through short snapshots. (This format is definitely not because I'm lazy and don't want to connect my writing what are you talking about) It has demon!dean again, and general angst until he comes back. Dean is then able to see people's souls as tattoos, along with tattoos showing if someone is possessed by a demon or angel. (you'll see)This work was inspired by the song Millenia by Crown the EmpireThank you to @confused.cas.is.confused on Instagram for making the pictures and generally nagging me until i got this finished.I hope you enjoy!(this work is not yet complete)





	1. A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words - And They Mean I Love You

**Author's Note:**

> When a passage or section of writing is in italics, it's a flashback, so keep that in mind
> 
> Also, I have no posting schedule, but the next chapter should be out in a month or so (possibly, i make no promises)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Dean gone, Sam and Cas struggle to find a way to bring him back. Mentions of violence, blood, etc.
> 
> This first snapshot is kind of short, so I'm sorry about that, but the others should be longer. 
> 
> Thank you so much to @confused.cas.is.confused (on Instagram) for making the picture at the beginning of this chapter!

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/154823534@N03/42599419021)

_“Cas - Cas, I need you to do this for me. Pl-please,” Dean’s voice was shaking, the cold mask of possession cracking, allowing the real Dean, _Castiel's_ Dean, to shine through, green eyes clear. “I can’t go on like - like this. The blood. The killing. Please. Make it stop.”_

Castiel shook his head, as if he could erase the memory. He could still feel the pain in Dean’s voice, breaking as though the weight of what he had done was strangling him, crushing him, stealing his breath. 

_Cas could feel tears leaking on to his cheek, and he pressed his eyes shut. The angel blade he was holding clattered to the floor as he took Dean’s face in his hands._

_“Dean - Dean, I can’t. I can’t do this Dean. Not you. Never you. I lo- I love you. Don’t ask me to do this. I can’t, I won’t kill you.”_

_The cold mask fell back into place. Black eyes flashed, a cruel grin appearing on Dean’s bloodied face._

_“Then I will.”_

_Faster than Castiel could react, Dean grabbed the angel blade that lay abandoned on the floor, and plunged it into his own chest._

_Blue eyes met bright green, and they started to fade, darkening as Dean’s breath slipped away from him. Hands going limp, his fingers unfurled to reveal a small, bloodied photo. Desperate arms reached out to Cas, grasping for the sleeves of his trench coat. Dean’s fingers intertwined with the angel’s, and the photo was pressed into Cas’s hand, one last plea for forgiveness._

Castiel held the photograph gingerly, as if it were a wounded bird. He turned it in his hands, reading the messy words that had been hastily scrawled on the back. _I love you._

_I love you. I love you. I love you._ The words pounded in Cas’s head, a reminder of everything and everyone he had ever lost, of what he was trying to regain. 

_“C-ca...”_

_“Dean!”_

A voice cut through Cas’s daze. He blinked, and turned his attention back to the conversation at hand. 

“You said angels and demons went to the Empty when they died, Cas. The Empty. That means there’s no getting him back.” Sam sounded exhausted, and close enough to tears that Cas was starting to worry.

“Yes. But I came back. Jack woke me up.”

“Well we don’t have Jack!” Sam exploded, “He’s stuck in that hell universe with Mom! And I’d say the chances of getting them back here are pretty damn small.”

Cas flinched.

“I’m sorry, Sam. I was just trying to help.” His voice was small, scared. 

“Shit, Cas.” Sam ran a hand through his hair. “I shouldn’t have shouted like that. Maybe there’s a clue or something in what happened when he – that night. You said he turned back into himself? What did you mean by that? What else happened?”

“I don’t-” Castiel started, “He was Dean, _my_ \- I mean- regular Dean. The demon in him just disappeared.”

Sam ran his hands through his hair again. “Have you ever heard of anything like that? Other than with him, of course.” 

“Well, it is possible for people to overcome possession for a time. It’s similar to when you managed to hold back Lucifer for long enough to – well, long enough. Like the car did for you, I believe this photograph helped him recover control. After that, well, the demon reclaimed control.”

_“Then I will.”_

Cas’s breath hitched. “He wanted me to kill him. When I couldn’t, he gave me the photograph. Then demon took over and did it itself.”

Sam glanced at the photo in Cas’s hands, a soft look appearing on his face when he looked back up at Castiel’s face. Whether or not Sam saw the words, Cas couldn’t tell. 

“We’ll get him back, Cas. We will.” 

 

\-------------------------

Dean’s hands were slick with blood, and he could feel it dripping its way down his arms and legs and chest. He couldn’t remember whose it was anymore. He didn’t think it was his, but- he couldn’t stop killing. 

“C-cas. I’m so sorry.”

\-----------------------------


	2. Hell to Pay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean's in HELL. (sorry about that) This chapter gives some backstory (ish) on the photo from chapter one. There is definitely some violence, but there's not a whole lot of *super* important plot, so if you want to skip it, it's basically just explaining dean's feelings and his side of the story?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again to @confused.cas.is.confused on Instagram - you're the best
> 
>  
> 
> (All grammar errors are my own, so if you catch one, feel free to point it out)

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/154823534@N03/42086694904/in/dateposted-public/)

_Dean woke up screaming._

_“No! Not here! Anywhere but here! Cas! Sam! Anybody!”_

_He couldn’t breathe. Memories that had never quite left came rushing back, full of pain and blood and death. Memories of Hell._

_A foreign voice pulled him out of his recollection._

_“You’re probably wondering how you got here, hmm? You should be in the Empty, sleeping forever. Nice and peaceful.”_

_“Who- who the hell are you?”_

_“Hmm. Good question,” the voice said, “Now, I’ll continue. You should be in the Empty. But you’re in hell. Now, you’re probably wondering why. Well, Mr. Asmodeus has a bone to pick with you, Dean Winchester. You see, he really doesn’t like you. And pulling the demon out of you to give to me, well, I say fair trade. It means no meddling angels or broken little brothers to wake me up.”_

_“Cas? S-sam?” Dean’s throat was tight._

_“Hmm. Yes. They seem to be running around like headless chickens, trying to bring you back. Too bad they don’t know you’re down here.” The figure shrugged, “Well, ta-ta for now. I’ll let them handle you from here.”_

_“Them? Who’s them?” Dean pulled at his arms and legs, but found them shackled to a rack. “Tell me, you son of a bitch! Who’s them?”_

_One by one, Dean saw people materialize in front of him, leering at him with cruel, disfigured grins. The blood drained from his face as Dean saw a flash of reddish hair._

_“Hey, Dean-o,” Charlie said, looking from Dean to the others standing next to her, “Looks like we finally get some revenge, huh?”_

\-------------------------

The only thing keeping Dean sane (or, he supposed, the only thing distracting him from his other forms of insanity) was thinking about the photograph. It had been taken years ago, after Dean had taken Cas to that strip club and had laughed harder than he had in years. He had made the spur-of-the-moment decision to pull out his phone and ask someone to snap a picture of the two of them. He had printed it out later, and kept it in the little drawer next to his bed with the other pictures of his family. 

Dean had wanted to give the picture to Cas when they were going to see him after his resurrection. It had been in his jacket pocket, the small words that had taken him nine years to voice on the back. _I love you._

But he couldn’t bring himself to. He was distracted by the fact that _Cas had come back to him._ He didn’t want to mess it all up by finally getting his feelings out there and then having Cas leave again. So he kept it. And it had stayed in his pocket ever since.

He had written those damned words on the picture after Cas had said it to him, that night he was stabbed in the barn. _“I love you. I love all of you.”_ Dean had spent years fighting against the fear of rejection, remembering how John had reacted when Dean had told his father that he might like guys. Nine or so years of fighting against the urge to either kiss Cas or run away. And he did run. He ran to hunting, to drinks, to women whose names he didn’t bother learning. (He knew he’d forget them in the morning anyway)

And now it was too late. He hadn’t wanted to shove the picture and what it laid bare at Cas like that, certainly not while he was dying. Call him a romantic, but he had wanted to wait for the right moment. And while professing your love and then dying might be a classic, it wasn’t exactly how Dean wanted to tell Cas.

If he ever got topside, Dean wasn’t sure what he’d do. He could count the number of times he’d ever said I love you on one hand, and Dean didn’t think he was ready to face the fact that he loved Cas, dammit, but would never get the chance to act on those feelings. He was stuck in Hell, after all. Maybe he shouldn’t think about the hypotheticals. It’d only drive him crazy. For now, Dean would let himself be lost in the screams, praying to God, well, maybe not God, but to _someone,_ that he wouldn’t see Cas or Sammy on the rack in front of him.

\-------------------------

_It was a never-ending loop of pain. As face disappeared, another one, another person Dean couldn’t save would appear. It was always the same thing: ‘You let me die. Dean, you worthless piece of shit, how could you let me die?”_

_Except for two. The two people Dean had let down the most, who, for some reason, always had his back even when he was too weak to fight._

_“Sam- Sammy, please. Don’t - please stop,” Dean choked out._

_“No, Dean, you know what? I won’t stop. You_ deserve _this. You’re a piss-poor excuse for a brother. If it weren’t for you, Jess would still be alive. We’d have graduated college. Dad would still be alive.”_

_“Sa-” Dean couldn’t continue. His ribcage felt as though it was crushing him. Hell, it probably was._

_“Everyone_ _would still be alive. Without. You.”_

_Then Sam would be gone. And Cas, oh god, Cas, would take up the blade and start carving._

_After a while, all of the faces had started to blend together. But the one that had always stood out the most, always came so close to breaking Dean, was Castiel._

_“Hello, Dean,” Cas sneered, flipping an angel blade in his hand. “You know, I can’t believe I ever loved you.”_

_“C-cas. No, Cas, this isn’t real. His isn’t real!” Dean pulled against his restraints, tears streaking through the blood on his beaten face._

_“I hate to break it to you, but this is very real.” He punctuated his words by slicing down Dean’s already mauled chest. “You’re a murderer. And a liar. You didn’t deserve to be saved.”_

_“Cas, please,” Dean could barely speak. “I never meant to hurt you.”_

_Cas barked out a laugh, cold and humorless._

_“If I had known what you’d do back on Earth, I wouldn’t have wasted my time piecing your worthless soul back together.”_

_“Cas, this isn’t you. You’d- you’d never do this. This isn’t real. You would never-”_

_That damned blade found its way into Dean’s chest._

_“Remember this, Dean? Remember how you broke my heart? Every. Damn. Time. Did you really think I wouldn’t want revenge? Listen to yourself. You_ deserve _to rot in Hell.”_

\------------------------

_Dean couldn’t take it anymore. Every time Cas showed up, an overwhelming sense hurt, fear, and betrayal would wash over him. This Hell-version of Cas seemed to know all of the right buttons to push, the ones that hurt Dean most. So he let go. He gave up, letting himself be shoved in front of tools he swore he’d never touch again._

__

__

_And he went back to carving._

\-------------------------


End file.
